


My Sweetest Downfall

by southsidewrites



Series: Southside Werewolves Anthology [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Love, One Shot, Romance, So much angst, Twilight-esque AU, Werewolves, southside serpents, the southside serpents are a werewolf pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 09:37:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20444993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southsidewrites/pseuds/southsidewrites
Summary: The Southside of Riverdale is a natural playground of forests, rivers, cliffs, and lakes. It’s a picturesque paradise, but it’s a paradise with an ancient secret. For generations, there have been whispers of giant wolves—wolves too big to be anything but supernatural. The locals have always told stories, whispers around a campfire about the shapeshifters that kept their people safe from mythical dangers. No one expected the whispers to be real.When Malachai is the first werewolf to turn, everything changes.  He's lost and alone, and he has no idea who he is anymore.  Then, he hurts the person he loves the most, and his entire world drops out from underneath him.Prequel to "The Secrets We Keep," but can be read as a stand-alone story.





	My Sweetest Downfall

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for checking this out. As the tags say, this is a Twilight-inspired AU, but I've taken quite a few liberties with the source material. However, Malachai and Cordelia are heavily inspired by Sam and Emily.
> 
> If you've already read Jughead's story, _The Secrets We Keep_, this fic will act as a prequel. If not, you absolutely do not need to read it to understand the story.
> 
> Huge thanks to my amazing beta @rivendell101.
> 
> Enjoy!

Malachai set his coffee down with a sigh. His hands still felt shaky and weak, and he was afraid that he’d drop the mug if he tried to hold it up any longer. He had been out running for hours, doing his best to burn off the never-ending stream of frenzied energy that had come with the first change. It had been a month, now, and he still felt like he was constantly on the edge of a cliff, fighting to keep himself from falling over the edge.

The last thing he needed was to explode into a giant wolf in the middle of town.

He glanced up at the clock, and his gut twisted in a moment of pure panic as he realized he was late for work. He shook it off, though. It was Friday, his day off, and he had absolutely nowhere to be.

Working at Thomas Topaz’s convenience store wasn’t the worst job on the Southside. The old man had kind of saved him from getting too deep into the gang, after all. And hey, it could be worse. He could be like every other poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks and get stuck wasting away at SoDale in one way or another. It was kind of a tradition at this point—be born a man on the Southside, and you’ll end up on one side of those bars eventually. 

Thomas had been there for him when no one else was. He would never forget the day he was in the store, handfuls of cheap snacks in hand, just about to make a run for it, when he was frozen in place by the sound of the old man’s voice: _Hey, kid, want a job instead?_

And then, everything changed. It was in that store that he had met Cordelia—she was a little shorter then, with even more freckles and even wilder hair. He had just graduated, and she was about to start her senior year. She strolled up to the counter and asked for a pack of cigarettes so confidently that he almost said yes.

“There’s no way you’re eighteen,” he had said, his lips curving into a wry grin.

Crossing her arms with a huff, she had fixed him with a steely glare. “You sound pretty damn confident for a guy that’s barely eighteen himself.”

“Show me some ID, then.”

Scowling, she had taken her wallet out of her purse. “Fine, just the soda then.”

His grin had never left his face as he rang her up, moving annoyingly slowly. She was cute, too cute, and he couldn’t _not_ do something about it. “I’m Malachai.”

Her eyes had scanned up and down his body, narrowing skeptically. Finally, she had licked her lips, biting back a smile. “Cordelia.”

Malachai blinked hard, the memory fading as he forced himself back into the present. She would be home soon, exhausted from working yet another double-shift. They were both working more since they bought the house—they knew it would be cheaper than renting long-term, but at the moment, it just felt expensive. It was probably worth it, though. Had he not been spending so much time at the store, Thomas may have never picked up on the signs that something was wrong—the signs that Malachai was turning into a werewolf.

The Topaz’s were one of the oldest families on the Southside, and Thomas was the only person in living memory who had seen firsthand that the legends were more than legends. As a child, he had seen his own great-grandfather change, and then, just a few years later, the last of the shapeshifters had died with him. Or so they thought.

Malachai took another sip of his coffee, the bitter taste snapping him out of his thoughts. He couldn’t afford to get lost in them again—Cordelia was starting to notice. He was only half-there these days, the rest of him back in the woods, desperate to run. The secret was eating him alive. Thomas had told him that the wolves of the legends always ran in packs, but he was yet to see any signs of anyone else changing. For now, it was just him and his own endless, anxious thoughts.

The front door opened with a creak, followed by the sound of keys dropping into the bowl.

“Chai, you home?”

“In the kitchen,” he called, unable to stop his lips from curving into a slight smile.

Cordelia kicked off her shoes and padded into the kitchen. Dressed in leggings and a big t-shirt, she looked more like she had just come from bed than work. She walked up behind his chair and wrapped her arms around his shoulders to kiss him on the cheek. “You off today?”

“Mhm.” He nodded, reaching up to hold her hands tight against his chest.

“Good.” She kissed him again before standing up to walk to the fridge. “It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve seen you, babe.”

“It does.” He leaned back in his chair to look at her, engrossed in the smooth, effortless way she pulled out the supplies for more coffee. “We’ve both been working like crazy, though.”

“We have,” she agreed, hitting start on the coffeepot. Turning, she leaned against the table, covering his hand with her own and trailing her fingertips up his arm. “But now we have today—nothing to do, nowhere to go, just time to relax.” She reached his shoulder and gripped it, pulling herself close for a real kiss.

Malachai’s hands moved instinctively to her hips, sliding her off the table and onto his lap. His eyes drifted shut as her soft lips pressed into his, his anxieties melting away as she curled her body more tightly into his. She started slipping her hands under his shirt, and then he froze.

It had been so long, and he wanted her more than _anything_, but he couldn’t. Not here, not now, not like this. After the way he’d been avoiding her, it made him feel sick. How could she still be acting so normal when everything was going so wrong? He had been keeping half of his life from her, half of _himself_ from her, and she didn’t deserve that.

“Malachai, what’s wrong?” she whispered, sensing his shift in mood. “Are you okay?”

He could hear the hurt in her voice, and his stomach dropped. “Yeah, no, I’m—it’s fine. I just—”

She exhaled slowly, sliding off his lap and walking back to the coffeepot. “Sure thing, babe. Whatever.” Silently, she poured her coffee, walking past him and out of the kitchen. “Let me know when you’re done avoiding me.”

“Cordelia, wait, I—” He shot out of his chair and followed her. She was already in the living room, curling into the couch and pulling out her phone. When he stopped in front of her, she looked up expectantly.

“What? Are you going to explain why you’ve been so damn weird the past few weeks?”

He couldn’t. He wished he could, but he couldn’t. “Love, I—”

“Just don’t, Malachai.” She clicked off her phone and set it on the end table. “If you’re going to tell me another bullshit lie about something at work, just don’t. I stopped at the store the other day, when you said you were covering for Mike, and you weren’t there. Some other guy was, and he said you were never on the schedule.” Her eyes were starting to water, and she inhaled deeply to catch her breath. “I don’t know what you’re doing, Malachai, but I know you’re lying to me, and I can’t help but think—” She cut off with a sob, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.

“Cordelia, no,” he breathed, rushing forward to drop to his knees in front of her. “I would never—you know that.”

“I don’t know anything right now, Malachai,” she said, fighting through the tears. “Just that my boyfriend, who I thought loved me more than anyone in the world, has been lying and keeping secrets and avoiding me. What the hell am I supposed to think?”

He reached forward gently, taking her hands in his. “Cor, I’m not cheating on you,” he said slowly, trying to steady his racing mind. “I could never cheat on you. I _do _love you more than anyone else in the world, and I am so sorry that I would do anything that would make you think otherwise.” His words started spilling out faster as he searched frantically for some kind of believable excuse. He had to come up with something—he had to tell her _something_ to explain why he hadn’t been at work that day. 

“Then where were you? Where have you been when you say you’re working late?” She wiped her eyes, her tears slowing as the sadness was replaced by anger. Her hands clenched into fists, and she shoved him away to get off the couch. “And you better tell me the truth this time. I’m so sick of all these lies.”

“Cordelia, I—” He cut off, rushing to his feet as he scrambled to come up with an answer. Everything in him was screaming to tell her the truth, to let the secret come spilling out, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t put her in danger like that. “I can’t.”

“You _can’t_?” she spat, her tone biting and accusatory. “What the fuck does that mean?” She crossed the room, lifting her hands like it was taking all the self-control she had not to hit him. “What are you doing, Malachai? Are you hanging out with the Ghoulies again? Selling drugs? Just tell me, Malachai!”

“I can’t!” he snapped, his voice coming out in a near-shout. He could feel the adrenaline starting to course through his veins, the anger seeping through him like a damn-near physical sensation. “I can’t tell you, Cordelia!”

“And why the fuck not? What secret could be so bad that you can’t tell me?” Her voice was increasing in pitch, her face flushing red with anger. “I thought we were forever, Chai, or was that promise just a lie, too?”

A growl ripped through him. He had to get out of there before he lost control completely. “Never. I would _never_ lie to you about that. I love you, Cordelia.”

“Then stop fucking lying to me!”

“I’m not—” He cut off, his entire body starting to shake. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, and his skin felt like it was on fire. _Keep control, _he reminded himself as his vision flashed red. _Get it together. Don’t hurt her. Don’t you dare hurt her, you dumbass._ Cordelia was coming closer to him, though, a string of curses spilling from her lips. He could hardly hear her, the piercing ringing in his ears signaling the impending change drowning her out.

“You’re not what, Malachai? Not committed to this relationship anymore?”

“Enough!” he bellowed, shoving her out of the way to race past her toward the door.

Cordelia gripped the couch, stunned. Malachai would never lay a hand on her, and now he shoved her? She felt her stomach drop, and for a moment, she felt nauseous. Swallowing hard, her legs shook as she took off after him. “Malachai?” she called. Around her, she could see nothing out of the ordinary—his bike was still on the dirt driveway, and her car was parked next to it. The broken garage door was still being propped open by a sketchy-looking stack of palettes. Everywhere else, there were just trees. The endless forest that had sold her on the little cabin suddenly felt stifling. “Malachai, where are you?” she shouted, her voice fading into the forest.

Then, she heard a guttural, inhuman scream.

Cordelia took off at a sprint, her feet moving on instinct as she flew down the stairs and onto the yard. “Malachai!” she screamed. “Malachai!” Branches smacked into her face, nearly throwing her off-balance as she scrambled into the woods. The tree cover was thick, and she could barely see anything in her panic. “Malachai, where are you?”

There was another scream, and she followed it to a small clearing, barely big enough for the two of them. He had fallen to his knees, his whole body trembling as he choked out moans.

“Malachai, oh my God.” She dropped to her knees in front of him, grabbing his hands to pull them off his face.

“Cordelia, no!” he snapped, struggling his way onto his feet and pushing her away. “Get out of here.”

“No,” she snapped, her fury returning. “Tell me what’s going on, Malachai.”

“No!” he shouted, holding his hands out in front of her. He was teetering on the edge of the cliff, and he could feel the wolf creeping into his mind. His vision kept flashing red, the change overtaking him faster than he could control. “Cordelia, run,” he gasped.

“I’m not going anywhere, Malachai,” she said firmly. She had gotten back on her feet, standing as close to Malachai as he would let her. Every time she reached out, he shoved her away, his own balance getting shakier by the second. Her heart was about to beat out of her chest, and she wasn’t sure if she should be terrified or furious. “Not until you tell me what’s going on”

“I—” A scream ripped through him, and then a blinding flash of light cut across his vision.

Cordelia screamed. Pain seared through her. She collapsed to the ground. As everything went black, all she could see was a massive, copper-red wolf. 

* * *

_Blood. So much blood. Cordelia’s blood._

Malachai’s mind spun as he looked down at Cordelia—all he could see was blood. He started shouting frantically, only to realize that he was barking. Wolves bark, and he was a wolf. He was a wolf, and Cordelia was bleeding. Panic ripped through him. Cordelia was on the ground, unconscious as blood poured from the wound on her face—the wound he put there.

His stomach turned. He could hear her heart beating, which meant that she was still alive. He didn’t know how long she had, and he had to act fast. Desperately, he nipped at her sweatshirt, trying to get a grip on it without biting her. After a few frantic attempts, he managed to grab her sleeve and start to pull. He tugged her through the brush, whimpering every time she bumped over a root or rock.

Finally, he got her back into the yard, propping her against the porch in an attempt to keep her head elevated. His heart still racing, Malachai willed himself to change back. He had to call 911, and there was no way he could do that as a wolf.

He was too frenzied, though, his mind spinning and his adrenaline pumping. He’d never be able to calm down in time. So, he did the only thing he could.

_Thomas._

Malachai rested his nose on Cordelia’s shoulder, taking in the sweet scent of her hair as it mingled with the sharp, metallic scent of blood. Then, he ran. Channeling every bit of adrenaline he had, Malachai started sprinting through the woods, no regard for who or what he might run into. He just ran.

The sound of his paws hitting the ground thundered in his ears—the wind whipped by. His peripheral vision went blurry, and his path sharpened before him.

_Cordelia. Cordelia. Cordelia. _

Around him, the scents shifted as he got closer to town. He had never been out this way as a wolf before—it was too risky to be so close to a populated area. _Just a little further_, he urged, feeling his muscles throb as fatigue set in. He had to make it. Cordelia would die if he didn’t.

Bursting out of the woods, Malachai flew into Thomas’s yard, unleashing a torrent of urgent barks. There was a rustle from inside the house, and then the front door slammed open, the old man rushing out onto the porch. When he saw Malachai, his eyes widened.

“Malachai, what are you doing here?” His voice hitched with panic as he made his way down the porch to the yard. “What’s going on?”

All Malachai could do was bark and whimper, all the sounds melding together into one chaotic cacophony. He nudged Thomas, urging him toward the house, toward a phone.

“Malachai, I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me,” Thomas sputtered as he fought to keep his balance, putting his hand on the wolf’s shoulders to hold him in place. “You need to stop!”

Malachai went still, his ears drooping as he let out a low mournful howl.

Thomas’ eyes narrowed perceptively. “Is someone hurt?”

_Yes. _He barked.

Thomas nodded, keeping his dark eyes fixed on Malachai’s. “Cordelia?”

_Yes. _Another bark.

“Do I need to call 911?”

_Yes. _Malachai barked frantically, doing his best to nod.

“Alright, I’m calling now.” Thomas jogged back to the house. “You head back, Malachai. Head back and do whatever it takes to change back. You can’t let them see you like this, and someone needs to explain what happened to her.”

Malachai barked in response, turning on his heel to run back. His body was slowing down, the sprinting taking its toll. All he could do was push harder, though. Following his own scent, he managed to make the run in even less time, retracing his steps instead of searching for a path. 

When he broke into the clearing, the first thing he heard was the sound of Cordelia’s shallow breaths. He had no idea how long he’d been gone, but her bleeding had started to slow. That couldn’t be a good sign. He reached her and exhaled hard, his blood freezing. She was losing color, her skin going pallid and ashy.

In this distance, he could hear the faint sound of sirens weaving down the narrow country road. He was running out of time.

_Focus, Malachai_.

He backed a few steps away from Cordelia, breathing her scent in deep as he curled into a ball on the ground. Letting the memories of her fill his mind, he kept his focus on her scent, on the feel of her body against his, on everything that made him want to be human.

And then, he was back. The grass was cool against his skin, and his hearing was fuzzy and dim again. Stiffly, he pushed himself off the ground and to his feet. “Cordelia, I’m here,” he breathed, rushing to her side. “I’m here, baby, please stay with me.”

The sharp sound of a siren rang through the air, and he shot up. He needed clothes. Everything moved in a blur as he flew into the house, too focused on Cordelia to pay attention to what he was wearing. He barely managed to get back outside before the paramedics arrived, fumbling out some incoherent story about a bear in the woods. 

They didn’t seem to doubt him, loading Cordelia up and getting to work on stopping the bleeding. Malachai followed numbly, never letting go of her hand as the ambulance took off toward the hospital.

* * *

Mercifully, the nurse had muted the machine. If Malachai had been forced to listen to that endless, steady beating, he would have lost his mind. Instead, he just listened to the soft whir of monitors, the gentle _whoosh_ of the oxygen machine every few minutes.

It was just a precaution, they told him, just something to help her relax as the sedatives wore off. She hadn’t woken up yet, though, and she had barely even stirred. Every now and then, her fingers would twitch in his hand, and he would bolt upright, praying that she was waking up, and every time, it was nothing.

They kept telling him not to worry, that the medicine would take some time to wear off, that all the blood loss would make her weak. It was hard to believe, though. Cordelia looked so small in the big hospital bed, her red curls pulled into a high bun. They hadn’t had to cut any of it for the stitches, but there was a small lock missing near her temple where—he swallowed hard, unable to even think the words—where his claws had first hit her face. He couldn’t see the stitches under the thick bandages, but he knew exactly where they were.

Three thick, jagged lines tore across her face, splitting the skin. She was lucky, they told him, lucky that the wounds hadn’t been deeper. A few centimeters deeper, and she might have been blinded, might have had brain damage, might have been dead.

A shudder ran through him, and he took a deep breath, willing himself not to cry. He had cried enough already, and that’s not what he wanted her to wake up to.

There was a gentle knock on the door behind him, and the nurse walked in. “Mind if I check her vitals?”

“Of course.” Malachai’s voice came out in a croak, his throat dry and brittle.

She gave him a skeptical look that was eerily like the one Cordelia would give him when she switched into nurse mode. “You sound terrible, Malachai.”

He laughed roughly, and as if on cue, his stomach grumbled painfully. “Stop calling me out, Sarah.”

Turning to mark a few notes on the chart, she rolled her eyes. “Cordelia would expect nothing less from me.” She glanced down at her friend, her hand faltering for a moment. “She’s always the first to force family members down to the cafeteria.”

“That doesn’t surprise me a bit.” He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, being careful to avoid the IV. “She’d kill me herself if she knew I hadn’t eaten yet.”

It had been close to four hours since he attacked her, and food was the farthest thing from his mind. The adrenaline rush from the change had completely worn off now, and his entire body felt sore and weak. He refused to move from his chair, though. Until she told him otherwise, he wasn’t leaving her side.

Sarah rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Tell anyone I’m doing this, and I’ll kill you, Martinez.”

“Doing what?” he asked, his eyes narrowing with confusion.

“You want chicken noodle or broccoli cheddar? There’s also a soup of the day, but I wouldn’t recommend that sludge to my worst enemy, much less a friend.” She offered a small smile, and it took him too much energy to return it.

“Chicken noodle sounds great.”

“Alright, then.” She patted him on the back. “I’ll be back in a few. Try to drink some water or something in the meantime, maybe go to the bathroom or take a walk.”

“Mhm,” he replied, not taking his eyes off Cordelia. “Will do.” As the door fell shut behind him, he shifted in his seat, stretching the sore muscles of his neck. “C’mon, Cor,” he whispered. “Wake up for me, baby. His voice was thick with tears as he wiped a stray lock of hair from her face. “Wake up and let me know you’re going to be okay.”

Her lips parted, and she let out a soft breath. Malachai’s heart leaped in his chest—it was the first time her mouth had moved.

“Can you hear me, love?” He squeezed her hand more tightly, desperately wishing she would squeeze back. “I’m right here when you’re ready to wake up.”

She whimpered softly, and then her eyes opened. “Mal—” She cut off, her eyes squeezing shut painfully.

“Don’t try to talk so much, babe.” He leaned in close, brushing her hair off her face to press a kiss into her forehead. “You have fresh stitches on your cheek, and it’s going to hurt to talk for a while.”

Slowly, she nodded, keeping her eyes shut. Her voice came out in a soft whisper. “Water?”

“I’ve got it.” He pressed the button on the side of the bed, elevating her into a more upright position. Gently, he guided the straw to her lips, holding the cup steady while she took a long sip. 

She coughed slightly, wincing with pain. Then, her deep brown eyes turned on him. “Wolf.”

His mouth fell open, and he nearly dropped the cup of water on his lap. “Cor, you just woke up, and—we—you need to rest, and—”

“Now.” Her voice was low and soft, but there was no mistaking her tone. “Talk now.”

Malachai took a deep breath, re-gripping her hand. “I’m sorry. For everything. More than you can possibly—” He choked on the words. “There’s no excuse for what I did to you, what I’ve done to you.” Blinking back tears, he went on. “I promised that I would never hurt you, that I would never lie to you, and I’ve fucked up on both fronts. I should have run farther, shouldn’t have let you anywhere near me when I was like that.”

“How long?” He had to strain to hear the words, but her tone was plain—betrayal.

“Since I’ve been changing?”

She nodded.

“About a month—I thought I had it more under control, and I—”

“Why?”

The question caught him off-guard. Shouldn’t she be scolding him? Screaming that she never wanted to see him again? That he was a deranged monster from hell? “What do you mean?”

“Why wolf?” she repeated, barely moving her lips in an attempt to keep her face still. “Why you?”

“I—um—we’re not entirely sure. Thomas said that it’s genetic, that the gene is passed down from father to son. We’re meant to be protectors, and the change is only triggered when—” He swallowed hard. “When the danger comes too close.”

Her eyebrows furrowed at his vague description, but she decided to pass on that one for now. “Why did you change?”

The shame hit him like a punch in the gut. “I lost control,” he admitted, his voice dropping almost as low as hers. “I got angry, and then I lost control. I’m still new at it, and that isn’t an excuse at all, and I’m so, so sorry, Cordelia. I can’t believe I put you in danger like that, and I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again.” His words rushed out in a torrent of emotion, tears breaking free as his body started to shake. “I want to kill myself for what I did to you, Cordelia. I—”

“Malachai, stop.” Her voice was firm, stronger now. “Please stop. Not now.” She winced, lips pursing painfully. “That’s enough. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

He could see how much it hurt for her to talk, so he just nodded. “Can I get you anything else?”

She shook her head. “Just sleep.”

Nodding, he pressed the button to lower the bed from a sitting position. Releasing her hand, he jumped with surprise when she gripped him more tightly.

“Don’t leave,” she whispered, her eyes drifting shut. “Please.”

“Never,” he promised. Tenderly, he leaned in close, brushing his lips against hers. She kissed back, lifting her free hand to his face, her fingertips cool against his skin. “I love you, Cordelia. Forever.”

“Forever,” she repeated, her lips brushing against his as she relaxed back onto the pillows. “Forever.”

* * *

Malachai rushed around the car, pulling the door open so Cordelia could climb out. She rolled her eyes, taking his hand to pull herself up, but pushing the door shut herself. “My legs are fine, Malachai.”

“You just spent a night getting blood and fluids,” he reminded her gently. “Please don’t push yourself too hard.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile as they walked across the yard. “You’re not going to let me get away with a damn thing, are you?”

“Nope.” He laced his fingers with hers, pulling her closer as they walked. “You may be the nurse, but until those stitches are out, I’m taking care of you.”

“I’ll let you get away with it for now,” she muttered.

Malachai reached the porch, and Cordelia jerked to a halt, her grip on his hand tightening. “Babe, what’s—” He followed her petrified gaze down the weathered wooden surface. The normally light brown wood was stained a deep, bloody red. “Shit, Cordelia, I’ll take care of it right away.” Wrapping his arm around her, he guided her back into the house, leading her to the couch to sit down.

Cordelia’s face was still pale, her freckles standing out in sharp relief against her chalky skin. Her hands were shaking.

“Cordelia, what can I do?” he asked, dropping to his knees in front of her and taking her hands in his. “Just tell me what you need, babe.”

She bit her lips hard, shaking her head in an attempt to keep the tears from spilling out. “Sit with me for a minute?”

“Of course.” He slid onto the couch next to her, pulling her small body nearly onto his lap as he wrapped her in a hug. “I’m here, Cor. I’m sorry—I’m so, so sorry.”

Her entire body was shaking. “Please don’t, Malachai,” she whispered, pressing her forehead into the crook of his shoulder to rest her head on his chest, careful to be gentle with her bandaged face. “Please stop apologizing.”

“I can’t, Cordelia,” he choked out, pressing a kiss into the top of her head. “I did this to you—I’m the one who hurt you, who scared you, who almost killed you. It’s my fault, and I’m never going to forgive myself for that.”

Sucking in a deep breath, she sat up to look at him. Tenderly, she rested her hand on his cheek, feeling the prick of his stubble beneath her thumb. “Malachai, please stop. I love you, and I already forgave you. I forgave you the moment I woke up. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, and I can see how much it’s tearing you up.” She swallowed hard. “And that hurts me too, Chai. I hate seeing you hate yourself like this. You’re a good man, Malachai Martinez, and you made a mistake. But I’m _alive_. I’m alive, and I’m here, and if I’m going to get through this with even an ounce of sanity, I’m going to need a boyfriend who’s not begging me to hate him.”

Malachai’s breath caught in his throat, and he pressed his forehead into hers. Slowly, he kissed her, letting his eyes drift shut for a moment so that he wouldn’t have to see what he’d done to her. “But you should hate me, Cordelia. You have every reason to.”

“Good thing I don’t give a damn about what I should do.” Her lips curved into a grin, and she ran her hand through his hair, forcing him to look at her. “I’m not going to punish you, Malachai. I’m not giving you an easy way out,” she said firmly. Then, her expression softened, and she dropped her hand to her fingers with his. “I get that you’re guilty, and honestly, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t. But I’m not going to make this easy for you. I’m not going to hate you for this.” She paused, catching her breath and wincing as the motion pulled at her stitches. “So, you’re going to have to come to terms with what you’ve done in some other way, because I love you, and I’m not leaving you.”

He let his eyes drift down her face, down the bandaged half. Although he hadn’t seen it stitched shut yet, he knew enough about injuries and scars to know what it would look like—how horrifyingly permanent the reminder would be.

She would still be the most beautiful woman in the world. _Nothing_ could ever change that. But other people might not see it that way. For the rest of her life, Cordelia wouldn’t be known as the pretty girl with the red hair. She would be known as that poor woman with the scars on her face, and it was all because of him. Cordelia didn’t have to punish him—he’d punish himself every day for the rest of his life. Every time he looked at the face of the woman he loved more than anyone else on the planet, he’d be reminded of what he’d done to her, and he’d hate himself for it.

“Malachai?” Her voice was soft, urging him to come back to her. “Chai, talk to me.”

He rested his hand on her uninjured cheek, tracing the smooth line of her cheekbone. “How can you love me now that you know what I am? I’m a _monster_, Cor.”

“I love you because I know what you are.” She kept her warm brown eyes fixed on his, refusing to let him look away. “Malachai, you’re a good man, an amazing boyfriend, a hard-worker, someone who was dealt a shit hand in life and made something good of it. You’re the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, the man I still want to be my husband someday. You’re a man that’s going to make a great father, that’s going to show our kids what it means to love someone with everything you have.” She had started crying, clinging to his hands with vise-like grips, terrified that he might disappear at any second. “I _love_ you, Malachai, and if that’s not enough for you, I don’t know what else to say.”

Gripping her cheek more tightly, Malachai kissed her hard, shocking himself with the intensity. She kissed back just as hard, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling her body tight against his. “I’ll never leave you, Cordelia,” he breathed, grabbing frantically at her hips. “_Never_. As long as you’ll have me, I’ll never leave you.”

* * *

That night, Malachai let Cordelia have some space. She spent most of the day in bed, napping or reading books as the cocktail of post-op painkillers and antibiotics took effect. He spent the day outside, using a power-washer borrowed from Thomas to clean the porch. Then, when it was clear that the task wouldn’t kill the whole day, he ran to the hardware store to buy sandpaper a few gallons of paint.

The project took most of the day, the hand-sanding being far from the most efficient way to refinish the porch. By the time he finally got around to painting, his entire body hurt. He had picked a deep green, something that would go well with the dark wood-paneled house. It didn’t hurt that it was Cordelia’s favorite color, as well. She had been on his case to fix up the porch since they bought the house, and there was no better way to burn off nervous energy than some physical labor.

That, or a change, but there was no way in hell that was happening. Without saying a word to Cordelia or Thomas, Malachai had decided that he was done changing, that it wasn’t worth the risk. He’d fight the urge, pray that the curse went dormant, and live his life as normally as he could. He knew the risks, knew what dangerous power was out there, but none of that was as important as keeping Cordelia safe. 

The sun was just dipping below the horizon when he finally finished. For a moment, he just waited outside, watching as the sky was cast in a fiery orange glow. It would be fall soon, and then their whole world would be endless shades of orange. Autumn was his and Cordelia’s favorite season—their first real date had been apple-picking. It was cheesy and cliché, but she had managed to make it some of the most fun he’d had in his life.

Taking a final deep breath, Malachai headed back into the house. He used the small bathroom to clean himself up a bit, wiping off the stray flecks of paint and using the tiny sink to wash his face. Then, he headed back to the bedroom, only to find the sheets rumpled and the bed empty.

“Cordelia?”

“In here,” she called from the attached bathroom.

He could hear the crack in her voice, and he hurried in, trying to keep his expression calm. “What’s up?”

Her hand was on the edge of the bandage, fiddling with it. “I’m supposed to take off the dressing before I go to bed.”

His heart dropped into his stomach. She hadn’t seen it yet, either. “Do you want some help?”

She shrugged, dropping her hand back to the sink to clutch the counter. Her knuckles went white with the effort. “I don’t know.” Her shoulders heaved with the effort of catching her breath, and her voice came out a breathy whisper. “I don’t want to look, Malachai.”

Swallowing hard, he nodded. “I’ll do it.”

Her brown eyes watered as she looked up. “Really?”

“For you, anything.” He found himself smiling softly, trying to encourage himself as much as her. “Just tell me what to do.”

Nodding, she took his hand, pulling him closer. When she looked up at him, she had taken on her nurse voice. “It’s going to hurt a bit, so no chickening out if I wince, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Holding her hips, he leaned in to kiss her forehead. “What else?”

“Go slow, and keep your other hand just above where you’re pulling on the sticky part to hold it down.” She bit her lip, pushing herself up onto her tiptoes to kiss him briefly. “And for the love of all that is holy, please put that poker face of yours to good use. I’m nervous enough already.”

“I’ll do my best.” Taking a steadying breath, he let go of her hips. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” She pressed her lips together hard, shutting her eyes before looking back at him. “Let’s do this.”

Malachai moved slowly, tugging off the bandage exactly as she’d directed him. It came off easier than he’d expected, but his hand started shaking slightly the moment he saw the stitches.

“That bad, huh?” She was trying to sound confident, like it was something she could laugh off. The quiver in her voice made it less than convincing.

“I—” He cut off as he got the bandage off the rest of the way, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. Then, he looked at her, really looked at her. All he could bring himself to say was the truth. “You’re beautiful, Cordelia.”

Her eyes watered, and her lips twisted with the shadow of a smile. “Guess blinded by love isn’t just a figure of speech.”

“You’re always going to be beautiful to me, Cor.” Gently, he cupped her face, being careful to keep his fingertips off the fresh stitches. “Always,” he murmured, leaning in for a kiss. “I’m not going to lie and say it’s not bad, but you know that. For now, just believe me that you’re still the most beautiful woman in the world, okay?”

“Okay.” She nodded, letting him pull her close for another kiss. Without looking at the mirror, she grabbed his waist, pushing him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. With one hand, she flipped over the small makeup mirror on the dresser, ensuring that she wouldn’t get a surprise look. Then, she pushed him back onto the bed, climbing on top of him with a smirk.

“Is this a good idea, Cor?” he murmured, trailing soft kisses down her neck as his hands slid under her loose tank top. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’ll feel better once you’re naked,” she replied, tipping her head back with a moan as he nipped on a particularly sensitive spot.

He gripped her hips more tightly, holding her away from him to give her a firm look. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“I’m sure, babe.” She ran her hand through his hair, pressing a soft kiss into his parted lips. “I mean, the doctor did say no sucking, so we may be a bit limited, but I’m still very much willing to—”

“Cordelia!” He cut her off, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head. “Seriously?”

“What?” She smiled more widely, one of the first real smiles he’d seen since they’d gotten home. “My face hurts, I’m on too many drugs, and I really, really just want to sleep with my boyfriend like everything doesn’t suck right now.” She started pushing his shirt up, letting her fingertips dance over his toned abs. “Think we can do that?”

He bit his lip, his gaze darkening as he let his eyes trail down her body. “Yeah, we can do that.” With a grunt, he flipped her over, laying her back on the bed and kissing his way down her jaw to her neck. “And you may not be able to suck, but that’s sure not going to stop me.”

“Fuck, Malachai,” she laughed, tipping her head back on the pillows as he started pulling off clothes, “stop making me laugh—it hurts.”

“Sorry, babe.” He smirked, running his hands down her legs to part her thighs. “But I suppose we can stick to moaning for the rest of the night.”

Rolling her eyes, she sat up, nudging her lips into his for a kiss. “I love you, Malachai.”

“Love you too, Cordelia. More than anyone.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading, and be sure to let me know what other stories you'd like to see from this universe!


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